Giving up sweet, delicious baked things for two weeks turned out to be a lot less awful than I anticipated. I did whine every time Tim ate cookies, but I never caved in and ate one myself…even when I baked them for him! I did cheat a tiny bit, though. There were a few days where my need for something sweet was far too overwhelming, and I had to eat a small handful of chocolate chips or else I definitely would have died. (Not even being a little bit dramatic.)

As a result of my self-imposed ban on baked treats (and in spite of eating my weight in carbs this week) I easily met my race day weight goal, weighing in at 125.2lb this morning (boom!).

The freak out(s)

Despite all of the races I keep impulsively registering for enjoy running, I’m still not a great runner, and I’m never “in it to win it.” In fact, I will most likely never win a race, and I’m perfectly fine with that; as long as I finish–and don’t come in last–I’m happy. However, even though I only race for funsies, I still inevitably experience some sort of pre-race freak out. This time around, it’s lasted pretty much all week.

Freak out #1: I’m going to get lost.

Fantastic.

My ongoing panic over getting lost during tomorrow’s event began at the end of last week when I received the above email. It doesn’t matter how well-marked a trail is, I somehow always end up lost.

Last fall, during a trail half marathon, I got lost and added an extra 2 miles (fortunately, the trail I ended up on eventually looped back around to the actual course).

Three weeks ago, I went for a run at Wachusett–which is essentially in my backyard now, and is a place I’ve hiked and run a bazillion times (approximately)–and ended up in what may as well have been Narnia.

I don’t know why I’m so good at getting lost, but I am. And knowing that there will be several opportunities for wrong turns tomorrow is making me super anxious, which I’m sure isn’t doing anything to help with…

Freak out #2: I’m going to poop myself.

(Does 1:37-1:40/1:56-1:59 count as a mantra?)

My stomach often has a strong aversion to running. It sucks. Luckily, although I’ve often felt like it, I’ve never actually pooped mid-run; however, knowing that this shit (pardon my pun) even happens to elites –who probably have perfectly normal stomachs otherwise–leads me to believe that it’s really only a matter of time before I have to endure such an embarrassing moment.

When I’m running with other people, it’s not so bad because listening to them talk is usually enough to distract me from the raging battle in my gut…but I’ll be running solo for much of this race, so I’m pretty nervous about that.

Freak out #3: I’m going to break something.

As the world’s clumsiest trail runner, I’m honestly amazed that I haven’t already done this. I’m the most unsure-footed person I know and it’s been rainy the last few days, with still more rain in the forecast for tomorrow. This is a terrible combination of things.

Also, I’m going on vacation next week and need to be able to snowboard, so breaking something is really just not even an option. I should probably just stop thinking about all the horrible ways I might hurt myself immediately because it’s decimating my remaining motivation.

So these are the things that have been running through my mind all week. So to anyone who dares to ask me if I’m “ready” for tomorrow, please don’t be surprised when I laugh in response. These terrifying scenarios playing on repeat in my head, the fact that I failed miserably at following my training plan, and general feelings of running inferiority mean I’m about as far from “ready” as possible.

My training plan taunts me every day at work. Yes, I only ran 177 miles in preparation for this race (only a handful of them were actually on trail). And yes, I skipped every. single. long run. But, you know, whatever. LET’S DO THIS.

The goals

But I’m not completely hopeless! If that were the case, I wouldn’t have bothered coming up with any race day goals at all. Instead, I have five:

Finish (but not last!)

Beat Tim (don’t worry, his only goal is to beat me so it’s cool).

Don’t get lost.

Don’t pants my poop!

Don’t break/sprain/fracture anything.

Now excuse me while I go hide in a corner and try to think of a legit reason to bail.